DAN BEARD AND THE BOYS 



'73 



most I have said for this bird is that he 

 makes one of the most amusing pets of any 

 creature I have ever domesticated, and prob- 

 ably that is the beat that can be said for him. 

 Now, for all those people who must kill 

 something, whose instincts are for blood, 

 I will say, for goodness' sake, go out and 

 shoot crows. You will find them a diffi- 

 cult quarry. They will test your skill and 

 their plumage will be much more appropri- 

 ate for your wife's hat than that of birds 

 whose use to humanity is undoubted or of 

 those who are an ornament to our field and 

 pastures or which fill the woods with their 

 songs. 



Speaking of eating crows, I am told that 

 the squabs or nestlings are not unpalatable, 

 and, although I have personally eaten alli- 

 gator, skunks, muskrats, musk turtles, 'coons, 

 'possum, Rocky Mountain goat and other 

 creatures" of strong habits, I have never yet 

 eaten young crow. If any of my readers 

 wish to experiment in this line, I can say, 

 as far as my observation goes, the young 

 crows are fed with clean food and, all preju- 

 dice aside, I really see no reason why they 

 should not make a palatable dish. 



Regarding the food of adult crows, it may 

 be of interest to many readers to know that 

 although I have had five or six pet crows 

 and kept some of them for many years, I 

 have never known one of these birds to eat 

 carrion or corn, the reason being that they 

 could always secure food which was much 

 more palatable and to their liking. From 

 this I am led to believe that the crows only 

 eat carrion when they can secure no other 

 food. In this propensity, the records of 

 shipwrecked people and parties lost in the 

 woods show that man does not differ from 

 the crow, and, when the latter is starving, 

 he will not stop because the food may have 

 the odor of Rochefort or Camembert cheese. 



I have an idea that if the crow did not see 

 the farmer put the grains of corn into the 

 ground it would not pull them up. Every 

 pet bird of this kind that I ever owned would 

 immediately search out and pull out any ob- 

 ject which I buried in the ground or at- 

 tempted in any manner to conceal. _ 



What Recreation is trying to do is not to 

 defend Jim Crow, but to cause a discussion 

 and a consequent investigation on the part 

 of its readers into the habits of birds such 

 as the red-tailed hawks, for instance, which 

 are commonly supposed to be injurious to 

 the farmers, but which our best-informed 

 •men tell us are a benefit to the agricultural 

 people. 



REMINDED OF HIS TOAD 



Editor Recreation : 



Your very interesting article, with its 

 splendid illustrations on the toad, in the Oc- 



tober number of Recreation, particularly 

 appealed to me. In your drawings I could 

 see the "counterfeit presentment" of a toad 

 that has been my special pet for the pasl 

 five years. 



Up to about a month ago my toad lived 

 like a king in the backyard, regaling himself, 

 as was his wont, on the choice tid-bits of 

 insect life that flourished among the plants. 

 He grew into a ponderous fellow, and such 

 was his confidence in his surroundings that 

 he would see little danger in hopping slug- 

 gishly, along at the very feet of his human 

 acquaintance. Even our big, black dog was 

 treated with supercilious indifference, much 

 to that canine's sniffing disgust. 



Occasionally Mr. Toad would play an in- 

 teresting part in a performance that afforded 

 our visiting friends a great deal of amuse- 

 ment. Mr. Toad enjoyed having his back 

 scratched. With a long stick I would slowly 

 stroke the warty protuberances on his spinal 

 column. He would flatten out like a fat 

 pancake, never making a single move to es- 

 cape, and to all appearances having the time 

 of his life. 



But one day, a month ago, Toady got into 

 disgrace. This is how it came about : I 

 constructed a fountain in the rear yard last 

 summer, in which were placed some gold- 

 fish. One moonlight night, happening to 

 look into the water, lo and behold ! There, 

 was Mr. Toad, his big, broad face and 

 bulging eyes looking up at me the very pic- 

 ture of trouble. It was manifest that he was 

 trying to get out of the water, but a high, 

 steep and slimy wall made this impossible. 

 On further examination I was quite taken 

 aback to see in his mouth a little gold-fish, 

 wriggling and squirming to escape, Toady 

 was looking directly at me and seemed to 

 say, or I could easily imagine him saying, 



"Please, Mr. Back-scratcher, help me out 

 with this dainty morsel." 



Now, instead of being amused I was filled 

 with wrath, for in my warty friend I at 

 once espied a harmful creature, that would 

 soon deplete the animal life in the fountain. 

 I made haste to catch him up with a net, 

 and with firm set lips, conveyed the poach- 

 ing rascal out into the alley, where I dumped 

 him a block away. I hated to do it, but I 

 realized it must be done or good-bye to the 

 gold-fish. 



How such a slow-moving fellow could 

 capture a quick, swimming fish was a 

 puzzle. No doubt, after climbing to the top 

 of the fountain wall, he had seen the fish 

 passing temptingly by. It was too much for 

 Toady, and in he went, all bent on catching 

 the fish, very much like human beings, who 

 so frequently fall into temptation without 

 figuring on after results. 



Fred. S. Crofoot, Detroit, Mich. 



